


One More Month

by lawrencetheshark



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Developing Relationship, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawrencetheshark/pseuds/lawrencetheshark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tavros is dying and has never seen a circus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I realize this may not be the best fic to start my ao3 journey with, but it is the one that makes readers feel the most so...don't cry TOO hard, please.  
> Characters belong to Andrew Hussie.  
> Reviews are nice (can you even do that here?) and criticism is not unexpected but I do ask that you be polite in your honesty and refrain from asking if I need a beta because no, I do not, and I will take offense to that suggestion.  
> That said, read on my lovely friends! Read on!

One more month.

Thirty-seven days, the doctor said. The cancer was spreading. Too poor for chemo. The doctors, your mother, her friends, friends of yours, all the adults and everyone who didn’t have to deal with it just keep freaking out. So many I’m-sorries, so many dazed pauses in conversation, and it takes all you have sometimes not to yell at them for it.

You are calm. You have been calm since you found out about your cancer months ago. You suppose it hasn’t really hit you yet that you’re dying. It isn’t like you have much to live for anyhow, even if the cancer was operable; it’s knocked out the use of your legs, and rehabilitation would cost more than you could afford. You didn’t go to college and the only place you’ve worked in your life is some music store in the mall. You’re living on your own by some miracle, though your mother visits often these days, if she leaves your side at all.

You really do love your mother, no matter how annoying she can be. She asks you constantly about what she can do to make you more comfortable. Sometimes she asks about your bucket list, which you never really bothered to think up, but now you think you ought to consider it. As you’re considering it she asks that same question one more time, and this time, you have an answer.

You want to go to the circus.


	2. The Circus

You always wanted to go to the circus when you were little, but, as with many things growing up, you were too poor. You wanted to know what all the fuss was about; after all, all of your childhood friends had been, sometimes multiple times, and it fascinated you. You'd heard that this particular circus was run by a family named Makara, and was…unorthodox, to say the least.

Today your mother buys you a ticket, and two hours later, you're wheeling yourself into the handicapped seat in the front row, all the stories you'd heard whirling through your head. The seats are about halfway to two-thirds of the way full, and the murmurs you hear from patrons make you think that perhaps this circus isn't so popular anymore. You understand it stopped moving from town to town a few years ago and took permanent residency in the fairgrounds by your home.

Too bad you won't be around to enjoy it for very long.

About ten minutes after you arrive, the lights go down, and a loud male voice echoes over the crackling speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Welcome to the most incredible display of supernatural feats in the area! What you are about to see may amaze and terrify you, so be warned!"

You don't bother listening to the rest of what the voice says. You are enthralled in the happenings on the floor. There are men and women in skin-tight suits running and doing flips here and there. Tigers, bears, elephants, and other such animals are following each other and some of the people in a circle around the large purple main podium. Loud and upbeat music played in the background, accompanying the man's voice. Soon though, with the shouted name "Makara," a swell in the music, and an explosion of smoke from the center podium, the ringmaster appears.

You are captivated for a moment by the intensity you can see in his eyes and the wide grin on his face. He is a tall and lanky fellow from what you can tell, clad all in purple, his face covered in clown's makeup. He's using an umbrella as a cane, and when he speaks his gestures are wide.

"Welcome, my brothers and my wicked sisters," he greets. His voice is quite a bit deeper than you thought it would be, and kind of raspy. His speech sounds like it's a…well, a welcome into a church. "Y'all are gonna be seein some miracles today! We gonna make believers outta you all, so sit back and enjoy!"

Almost before he finishes talking, two acrobats in gleaming spandex flip onto springboards, which launch them into the air, only to land on the opposite end of the arena on the backs of elephants. You watch in amazement. In fact, your jaw is pretty slack the entire hour you sit there. There are several acts, including trapeze artists, a small girl taming the tiger, balancing acts with the animals, and near the end, your favorite act: the clowns.

You don't much notice the ringmaster very much until he ducks out of the arena, returning a moment later in a completely different outfit among a slew of other people. They are all made up heavily, pale faces and exaggerated features, bright colors and big bodies. You suppose all that is for the comedy, but you're simply hooked on the fact that they're juggling on top of unicycles. The speed at which they ride, the entire stage blacked out except for spotlights trained on the performers, it just excites you. That ringmaster is a master juggler as well; he hops onto the center podium and begins with three clubs, slowly progressing as other clowns throw more and more at him from the smaller podiums.

Before you know it, though, the show is over, and everyone is standing from their seats. You wait patiently for everyone in your section to clear out before you begin to even roll out, but somewhere in between, you feel a hand on your shoulder and you jerk slightly, and look, and well, it's him. The ringmaster is standing right next to you, leaning down, that giant grin on his face.


	3. The Meeting

You blink at the closeness of his face, having almost no time to react before he pulls back and swings around in front of you. "Hey, motherfucker!" he says, eyes gleaming at you.

You jerk back a bit at the language and the familiarity in his voice. "Um," you mumble with a questioning tone.

His smile quirks as you blink at him. "Saw you sittin here all mystified-like, thought you'd like a tour or some shit?"

He sits back on the boarder of the arena, giving you some space to breathe. You're confused, though. Circus people always sort of struck you as the type to not want to let outsiders in, but then here was this guy you'd never seen in your life, inviting you to see how it all works.

What the hell, you think. I've only got a month left, why not live it up?

"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess," you reply as coolly as you possibly can, though secretly, this is like a dream come true. He pushes back a section of the boarder (that you didn't know came apart, you're just a little freaked out) and wheels you out into the arena towards the crowd of performers standing beyond their entrance curtains, talking and cheering for each others' performances.

You feel anxious about meeting so many new people, but you suck it up, because you're never going to get this opportunity again. You do, however, stop to wonder why it is that he's noticed you, of all people. You think, with a hint of bitterness, that he pities the disability that has been thrust upon you. This thought doesn't last long, though, before it's replaced with a huge wave of unease that comes with being stared down by twelve suddenly silent and still performers in more makeup than you've ever seen in your life.

Every single eye turns towards the tall man in purple behind you as you roll to a stop. You sort of look at the ground, wondering what exactly it was that you did to offend them. Then, for some reason, they are all over you, back to smiles, back to character, greeting you in quick succession as if you're a celebrity. You look up, bewildered by all of this attention, grateful to not hear the word "sorry" in any of the streams of speech flooding your ears.

Some of them have accents, some of them have odd hair, but you just sit in amazement as the ringmaster takes the camera (that you completely forgot you had, figuring you wouldn't have any use for it, considering, but brought along out of habit) from your grasp. You are hurled into various poses with the cast of the show, a majority of which are with the Ringmaster himself, and by the end of it all, you are laughing and joking around with them as if you were lifelong pals.

Being in such close proximity to people that you've admired from even further away than anybody else renders you unable to stop smiling. You can see every line of makeup on their faces, every emotion in their eyes as they smile at you. They look genuinely happy to be with you, which is weird, because it isn't like you're friends with any of them, and you still seem to remember always hearing that circus people hated outsiders.

It all happens so quickly that you literally have to turn around in your chair to look back at the performers waving goodbye to you to realize that yes, you went to the circus, and yes, you had a fucking awesome time meeting and hanging out with the performers.

Especially the Ringmaster, who is currently pushing your chair up a steep hill, clad in street clothes but still wearing that makeup. He's got long baggy black pants with purple and gray polka dots all over them and a plain black tanktop pulled haphazardly onto his torso. His hair is a mess and that smile is still plastered to his face, though it looks more like a high smile than the predatory one from earlier.

The two of you don't say much as the sun begins to go down. He's still pushing your chair, but your shadows are getting longer, and by the time you stop, the sun is gone, hardly peaking over the horizon any longer.

You realize with a start that you never asked where he's taking you, you never called your mother, and you don't even know this guy's name.

"Um…my name is Tavros," you introduce quietly as he fiddles with the lock on a door atop a small staircase.

His icy blue eyes turn to look at you, and the smile only seems to get bigger. "Gamzee," he replies in the same raspy, chill voice he's had all day. You guess it must be his real voice.

"Um," you continue after an acknowledging and complementary smile, "what exactly is going on here?"

This Gamzee fellow chuckles darkly as he finally gets his front door open. "Well, Tav—you don't mind me up and getting my nicknaming on do ya?—it's getting late and I didn't think you'd be wantin that momma of yours havin to up and haul her ass back all the motherfuckin way down here to pick you up."

You are slightly offended for a moment; after all, you know for a fact that your mother wouldn't have any problem coming to get you, especially now. Of course, giving it a little more thought, you figure this little reprieve is one of the many things you owe her. "I guess," you agree. "But…why did you invite me over anyhow? I'm just a spectator. I don't know the first thing about a circus. "

Gamzee chuckles once again as he walks back down the stairs and circles around behind you. "You just seem like a nice kid to chat to," he finally replies, lifting your chair up the stairs with ease. "Been needin a feelings jam. Nobody worked. Guess we'll see bout you, huh."

You hold tight to the arms of your chair as he moves you into the front hallway of his home. He startled you when he picked you up. "Um…feelings jam? Gamzee we just met, do you really want to talk about your feelings with a stranger?"

He shakes his head as you look up at him. "You don't know me, you ain't biased. You don't know me, you don't know anything more'n what I up and decide on tellin ya."

A moment's consideration, and you find that he makes a valid point. Which only means that you don't have to tell him about your cancer. You can just enjoy his company without worrying about him freaking out. You've had just about enough of that.

So, you smile. "Then, um…I'm here to listen!" you say with only a mild stutter.

The excited gleam in his eyes makes you wonder what it is he has to talk about that nobody will listen to.


	4. The Talk

His story is kind of a sad one.

"The circus ain't doin to hot lately, brother. I got the idea you up and saw that from where you was sittin. Nobody getting their entertain on under that ratty old tent. Man, and that fuckin sucks, brother. That place is…well it's a church. Got that confused face on there, motherfucker, lemme explain. See, my family's always got their worship on to the mirthful messiahs, and ya know, our practices get some motherfuckers uncomfortable. People been figurin it out lately, that the Makara clan is the same Makara clan that they been all up and blamin for some cult crime shit that'd been goin down years before I got my lead on in the ring. We ain't criminals, brother, get that motherfuckin thought outta your mind right now. We ain't up and done a damn thing to deserve a motherfuckin sentence, but motherfuckers just don't up and see it that way I guess. Can't wear my makeup in public anymore, brother. Disgracin my religion cuz some fuckers been sayin there been a clown fuckin up the town. I ain't done a damn thing, and I sure as hell know my big brother ain't either. Sometimes he gets his urge on but I got him collared, he wouldn't betray me. I'm the top motherfucker, head of the house, the high priest if you got it all up in your mind to think of it that way. Gotta keep us under the motherfuckin radar. Gotta protect my family, kid, ain't nobody else gonna do it for me. But it's alright I guess. So many motherfuckers got their fear on of clowns even without the rumors and shit. Don't wanna be scarin the poor motherfuckers who don't got that believin in em. Not everybody's gotta worship the way I do. It ain't too motherfuckin right that I gotta muzzle my religion when I ain't hurtin any motherfucker, but I gotta do it to get my motherfuckin protect on. So yeah, it's alright. I guess."

You listen to every word of what he says, confused by the specifics, but you understand the concept. He's the kind of guy that will do all he can to protect his family, but there's only so much one person can do. Suddenly, though, the clown makeup doesn't creep you out anymore. Now you just see it as a cultural thing. Jeez, you sure feel bad for the guy.

And suddenly you wonder just how old Gamzee is. If he's the head of a religion he's probably something like middle aged, like forties or fifties, right? You can't tell with all that makeup on, and it isn't like it matters, but you wonder why he chose you to talk to rather than someone closer to his age.

"Um…how long have you, uh…how long have you been running the circus?" you ask softly, frightened to speak in the still, dark dampness of his small abode.

He looks up at you from where he's been carving something into the floor with a small knife. His face is slightly bewildered. His gaze would have made you shift uncomfortably in your chair if your legs worked. "That your only motherfuckin question, motherfucker?"

You shift your eyes anxiously from his, mapping out potential exits in case he decided maybe violence would solve something after all. "Uh…yes."

To your surprise, and utter relief, Gamzee chuckles and just looks back down at his knife. "Six months. Pops passed away near a year ago and I wasn't allowed to be ringmaster til I up and hit the ripe ol' age of twenty-five. Can't figure why, but the old man was always getting his lecture on about that. So once that birthday up and hit, the tent and the family and our whole life was up to this motherfucker to support.

"Twenty-five?" you repeat.

"Yeah, twenty-five."

"Oh."

"Problem, motherfucker?"

You shake your head quickly and decide maybe it's time to change the subject. "Um, so, why can't your older brother run it?"

Gamzee tosses the knife at the wall to his right, where it sticks, shaking for a moment. You jerk when it makes impact, and blink when a small lamp is clicked on, bringing light to the large center room. "Well, I suppose we all up and got two reasons for me runnin the thing. One, my brother don't want the limelight. He's more the behind the scenes magic man. And two, he can't talk. Motherfucker's mute. Opened his mouth one day, words didn't want a motherfuckin thing to do with him, waited a month, no better, stitched up his lips. Still got no voice. Tragic, motherfucker, he had a wicked voice."

You nod slowly, a small smile twitching on your lips. You don't really know what to say at this point, and you're still nervous about being in this house. There is no furniture in the main room other than that lamp and it's a little chilly and a little humid. For some reason, though, you can't say you mind. You like to listen to him speak. You don't mind his profanity. And, looking at him from such a close distance, he's actually really attractive, which isn't something you thought you'd notice, or care about at all.

Suddenly, Gamzee stands and walks over to you. "Do you wanna up and get some dinner with me, Tav my brother?"

You hesitate a moment before nodding, not even giving it a single thought. Yeah you want to get dinner with him. He seems pretty happy about it, and with a ruffle of your hair and a push from behind, the two of you are off.


	5. The Date

No. You refuse to call it a date. Or do you? After all, you are the one who thought it in the first place. But it isn't a date, not really. It's just dinner with the ringmaster of a circus whom you met just hours ago. Dinner…which he pays for…um. Maybe it is a date.

He watches you from across the table the entire time. His eyes are on fire, and it's weird, because nobody's ever looked at you that way before, especially not a guy like…him. He didn't take his makeup off for this outing; you suppose it's because it's about ten o'clock at night and it's a pretty sketchy restaurant anyhow. It's alright, though, because you sort of like it. Especially when his smile twitches just a little wider, his speech getting just a little more broken. He's nervous around you now, and you can't say that you're not glad for it.

"Gamzee," you start as he pushes you back towards his home. "You, uh, didn't just need someone to talk to about the circus, did you."

You hear his rough chuckle and you know you're right. You got the feeling when his hand lingered a little too long on your own at dinner. You can't tell if you're disappointed or excited. You actually really like Gamzee, so you don't think you're disappointed. It's just moving really fast. Of course, you think, if it moved much slower, you'd feel trapped.

Thirty-five days remain.

"I liked you, motherfucker," he admits in his casual tone. "This motherfucker just kept getting his stare on. You're a hard guy to miss, my brother. Thought I'd get my greet on, figure out a little about ya."

You feel yourself blush and smile bashfully. Well, there's no time for anxiety to stop you now. "Then, um. Maybe…you should, um, ask me out. You know, um. Formally."

He stops. It's a brief pause, but it happens. Your smile widens and you look down at your hands in your lap. His chuckle is somewhat rueful as you continue your journey.


	6. The Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was sort of a vent chapter so I'm sorry if nothing makes any sense.

He rides with you on the public bus to make sure you make it home safe. You insist on him coming up to meet your mother, whom you know is probably freaking out, despite how many times you texted her to remind her that you were okay and coming home in the morning. She's smothering you a little, and it's weird how of all times, she chooses your last month to smother you. But then, she couldn't before, could she?

You aren't the least bit anxious about him meeting her. In fact, you're a little excited. This isn't really a "bring your lover over to meet the parents" thing, since he never really did ask you out. He crashed the second he got you out of your chair and into the guest bed (which was the bottom bunk of his bed). Still, though, you just really want them to meet. You do, however, think you would be more nervous if he had come in full makeup, because your mother is terrified of clowns.

You get off at the stop just outside your apartment building. Gamzee pushes you to the elevator and, once at your floor, down the open hall to your door. The entire time he's asking you questions about the place, questions like, "How long have you lived here," "Do you know many of the neighbors," "Do many children play in the park," and other questions such as those. You answer each softly with a smile on your face.

The jiggling of your key in the lock alerts your mother that you're finally home, and she yanks the door open before Gamzee's managed to insist enough for you to let him get it for you. The two of you are frozen in your spots, eyes wide for only the tiny moment before your mother is hanging on you.

"Tavros! Gosh, I was so worried! I mean, I know you told me where you were, and that's fine, but goodness, I was so, so worried…"

"Moooom," you groan. Then, just to make sure she doesn't bring it up, you hiss in her ear, "Don't, um, bring up the thing."

The woman immediately jerks back and trains her eyes on Gamzee. "And who is this…?" she asks politely, giving a soft but wary smile.

You take a deep breath. "Mom, this is, um, Gamzee Makara. He owns the, uh, circus."

Gamzee smiles a wide toothy smile and bows slightly at the waist, offering a hand to shake. "It sure is a pleasure to be meetin ya, sis," he greets. "I figure since it's up and getting on my mind I ought to get the askin on. Would big momma be opposed to me getting my date on with this noble brother here?"

And that's how it starts. His hand comes down on top of your head and rubs your Mohawk gently, still grinning at your mother, who casts a surprised and anxious glance at you before stuttering an affirmative response.

Your first official date is a picnic in a park. It's raining, so the two of you sit under the large weeping willow that acts as the central landmark in the park. Every so often a drop drips on you or him and he has half a mind to throw the picnic blanket over the machinery you're riding around in. You refuse because, well, the amount of rust that could accumulate on metal from just that small amount of rain in thirty days won't cause it to fall apart. It is sweet that he's thinking about it, though, and you laugh, accepting another piece of pie. Thirty-two days remain.

Two more dates that any normal person would say went disastrously wrong pass before you two kiss for the first time. You get the feeling that at first he's just caught up in the moment, seeing as he somehow managed to turn a bar fight into a big 20's style party, with dancing and laughing and the antagonists too scared of Gamzee's anger to start trouble. It's the first time you've seen him so angry, but when the party gets going and he gets all excited, he kisses you, and you don't worry too much. His lips are broken a little from the chapping that happens without the greasepaint, but you prefer the taste of blood to that vile oil stuff anyway. You mentally promise to get him chapstick later before you are kissing him back. Twenty-seven days remain.

The first time you meet his brother is a little awkward. You met him before, the day you and Gamzee met, but this time, it's official, and it's formal. Gamzee's dressed like he normally is, raggedy baggedy pants, torn-up chucks, and this time, his shirt is just black. Kurloz, his brother, is dressed in a long turtleneck which hangs on his frame in a way that shows off his lithe muscles, and black leggings, no shoes. His hair is a mess of curls atop his head and spilling down to about the base of his neck. You take the time to notice the small kinks at the ends of Gamzee's sleek, layered black hair, where they curl up near his eyes and around his ears and along his jaw. You then realize you're staring at Gamzee, blush, hold out a hand to the man with the stitched mouth, and blush some more under the lanky magician's knowing smile. You come out of it feeling like you've just met God—or Satan. Twenty-four days remain.

You quickly feel like maybe things are moving too slowly. Something crosses your mind that you never thought you'd want, but you've fallen for the guy, and well, you aren't going to live forever.

You've got eighteen days left until you're gone for good when you work up the nerve to tell him you want to have sex.


	7. The Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW. You have been warned.

The look he gives you when you bring it up is a surprised and hesitant one. You've done a lot more than just kiss at this point, for sure, but you haven't gone further than wandering hands and hickeys. You blush so hot and red that you're sure you look like some sort of brownish tomato. He stops you when you try to roll away, though, a smile growing on his face.

"Course we can, Tav," he says softly, cupping your chin and stroking your cheek with his thumb. You look up at him, the beginnings of tears in your eyes. "Whatever you want."

You bite your lip as the two of you look at each other, a wave of elation and slight anxiety sweeping over you. You're happy, but you're nervous. You've suddenly lost most of the confidence you've built up over the years, and why now? Why when you want so badly to be with him, when you dare to say you love him, when there's so little time left? You mentally kick yourself, tearing your eyes from his and leaning into his hand.

"What's the matter, Tav?" he asks you quietly, tilting your face back up towards his. Your heart is thudding and it feels like it's in your throat and his face is just too close, you're scared, and you can't think of a time when you've felt more…alive.

You take one more look around you; you're back at his place, but now it's got a little more life to it. The curtains are open and even though the sky is darkening the place feels more lively than the first time. Thinking about it, you realize again that you feel ready. Nothing should be stopping you. And so, when you look up at him again, you immediately pull him into a kiss.

Someone so flexible and controlled should not lose his balance so easily. He ends up catching himself with a foot on the edge of the seat beside your leg and his hands clutching both arms of your wheelchair. That only lasts a second, though, because as the kiss falls into a rhythm, he sighs and settles on your lap, legs folded on either side of yours in the chair. Your arms snake around his waist as his fingers grip your jaw. Your breath mixes with his as your lips press and mould and nudge.

Soon your tongues are doing the tango and your hands are trying to remove each other's clothes, though Gamzee gets the idea that maybe you ought to be in the bedroom for that. He climbs off of you and you whine, panting as he rushes to push your chair all the way down the hall and into his bedroom.

Once there he lifts you into his arms with that alarming strength you still aren't used to him having and lays you on the bed, climbing on top of you. He takes a moment to stare down at you and catch his breath, but you don't really want any part of that, and you tug his head down so your lips meet again. This kiss is sloppy and doesn't last very long before you decide you want to taste his neck. The fingers you have laced firmly in his hair tug just enough to tilt his head, and he disconnects from you with a gasp. You nip at his neck lightly, then suck, and he groans breathlessly.

"Shit, Tav," he gasps the more you kiss him. You feel a shy smile tug at your lips as you drag your tongue up along his jaw. He's shivering and gripping your shoulders, and in the next moment you feel a shift in his hips. For a moment you think maybe it was a mistake, but then he does it again, even harder. You moan and try to arch up against him, but your legs disallow it, so you whimper and grab his hips.

"Gamzee," you huff. He snorts a little and kisses you on the lips again, hips dipping and rubbing against yours in long strokes. You gasp and tighten your grip, pulling him just slightly harder against you. By now both of you are without a doubt fully erect, but you can't do much of anything from where you are, and Gamzee seems to be perfectly content with his crotch against yours and his lips the same way.

"Gamzee," you whimper when he pulls back. "Come on, Gamzee, stop teasing me…"

You watch through lidded eyes as he smiles that wide smile. His hair is even more of a mess than usual, his breath is coming in ragged, and his eyes are…hungry. "Me tease you?" he chuckles softly. "Motherfucker, you're the one who's up and teasin. Just look at these marks you made." He gestures to his neck as he begins to strip, still straddling your hips. You watch silently, biting your lip, and you realize that you've never seen him completely naked.

It really is a glorious sight. His body is lean and his muscles bulge a little out of his thin skin-and-mostly-bone frame. And, of course, well, then there's…well, suffice to say, you really enjoy the view. He notices, too, and you can see him blush. You've got him all flustered again, something you still haven't gotten used to, and probably never will.

You smile up at him and start to reach for your pants, but he beats you to it and tugs them down. You hear him chuckle a little, and you guess maybe he saw the small damp spot that formed on your boxers moments ago. Your cheeks flush, but you find that you don't feel the need to look away. You just lock eyes with him again with that same doped up smile on your face.

You continue to watch as he leans over to retrieve lube that you sort of forgot he must have in his bedside table. You mentally prepare yourself for what comes next, because you know that he'll probably want to top and you know what that means and holy crap, no, you've never been more wrong. Your thoughts swerve onto a new course when you notice that he's spread the lube onto his fingers and is sitting up just a little higher on your waist.

Blue eyes are locked on your brown ones as he reaches under himself. Your heart speeds up quite a bit with the gasp that he lets out as a finger pierces his own entrance. You can't think of anything to do except massage small circles on his hip bones and watch. So you do. You watch with a heated face and a twitching cock as he works one slick finger in and out, soon adding a second, then later, a third. He scissors and thrusts and stretches and moans with his eyes locked right on yours, licking his lips and taunting you. He knows you want him, and maybe it's getting to be a little too much for him too, because he removes his fingers and leans over you to give you a sweet kiss on the lips. A sweet kiss followed by a good coating of the cold lube on your pulsing erection and your beloved Gamzee lowering his tight heat onto it.

The two of you moan in unison, yours slightly more strangled and high pitched than his, his deep and long and rolling as he impales himself down on you. You hesitantly rub his hip with your left hand and reach up to grip his weeping cock with your right. His breathing is heavy as he sits on top of you, ass fully flush with your groin, and it isn't long before he's moving.

Oh God does it feel good. You're reduced to a gasping and moaning mess in no time, wishing you could thrust up into him, or make him go faster, or something, anything! Left to his own devices like he is, he's liable to try and torture the both of you just to see you wiggle and writhe and squirm beneath him.

"Gamzee," you stutter almost breathlessly, eyes closed nearly all the way in ecstasy. His head is tilted back as your hand works his erection in time with his thrusts downward. You hear him chuckle, feel his hands hit the mattress beside you, see him collapse over himself before he lifts himself almost all the way off you, only to slam back down.

Any involuntary action your lower half has left, he coaxes out of you with little effort. His movements get rougher and he takes you deeper, harder and harder until the moans hit their loudest and the names become broken. You feel him splatter, hot on your hand and your chest, your name on his lips just seconds before you release yourself inside him, shouting that blessed name.

He slides off of you and collapses beside you before you think it's even possible for him to have come down from his orgasm yet. His arms are around your shoulders, pulling you to him, lips against your forehead and whispered "I love you's" as you drift into sleep.


	8. The Sunrise

You open your eyes the next morning to a face full of Gamzee. He must have curled around you in the night because your face is buried in his chest, but it doesn't matter much, because you can feel his heartbeat, and the closeness and heat of this moment is so nice. The relaxation mixed with the I-can't-believe-we-just-did-that and the little bit of uneasiness is soothing. You smile for what seems like no reason and cuddle yourself closer to your lover.

When he wakes, he kisses you good morning. His voice is scratchy and he comes off as a little inebriated, slurring and wobbling with sporadically changing vocal pitch as he stretches the sleep from his muscles. After that you spend most of the day cuddling in the bed, only moving to get food. He traces his long, slender fingers over your body, and you blush remembering all the places those fingers touched the night before. He tells you stories, too, stories about his childhood and his mother and the places he'd lived overseas. You love his stories, and knowing they're real this time makes it much better.

Things go like this for the next ten days. Every day you both promise that you'll actually be productive, but it isn't meant to be, and you often just fall into bed or onto the couch. Sometimes you just cuddle but more often its more hardcore than that and you just can't get enough.

Your mother is excited to see you so happy with him. The two of you get together on a day when Gamzee gets an emergency call from his brother. You don't want to pry, so you aren't exactly sure what's going on, but it does open an opportunity for a one-on-one with mom.

"Have you told him yet?" is her very first question. Your face falls and your heart nearly stops because wow, you haven't got very long at all.

"Not yet," you sigh. You drop your shoulders and link your fingers together on your lap. "I don't, um…I don't know how…"

She smiles at you in that warm motherly way. "Well, Tavros, I think that it's wonderful that you can spend this time in love and in bliss." A tear rolls down her cheek before she abruptly stands, kisses your forehead, and leaves. You want to go after her, but you figure it's probably best to leave her alone with her thoughts.

You find that it's actually going to be really difficult to tell him that you've only got a few days left. After so long being so calm about it, you never really thought it would affect anyone other than your mother. Sure, you have friends, but they've all said their good-byes and gone about their lives. You never really loved anyone enough that this would be hard to say. You never had anything to lose. You aren't scared, really, at least not of the dying thing. You just…don't want to break his heart.

In three days, you find that it's just going to be a million times more difficult than you originally thought, so you figure you just won't tell him. After he falls asleep you spend the night on his computer.

The next morning you are up before the sun. Gamzee doesn't move a muscle as you hoist yourself out of his bed and into your chair. You kiss him on the lips, run your fingers through his hair, and head to the top of the hill right behind his house. The sun will be rising soon, and you know for a fact that you can see it rise over the entire city from the top of that hill.

You can see into forever from the top of that hill.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Gamzee's point of view.  
> You...may want to be sitting down. Grab some tissues if you tend to cry. Don't say I didn't warn you.

You open your eyes. Your room is just beginning to pale with the light of day. You wonder why you're up so early. Blurry eyes sweep around the room as if to find the answer to your question, but it quickly becomes a search for Tavros. The space where he slept is cold and empty, and his chair is gone.

With a groan you sit up, only to notice that your computer screen has a note taped to it. It strikes you as odd, which breaks you out of your groggy stupor. "The motherfuck…?"

You stagger from your bed to your desk, a few stray thoughts making themselves into concise spirals in your head. Tavros probably went out early to see the sunset, and ever the worrier, left you a note to tell you exactly where he is. You love that boy, whacky habits and all.

The small chuckle that had escaped your lips fades as you read, though. You sink down into your computer chair on weak knees. You can't breathe. You are shaking as you reread over and over. Your smile is gone, your heart drops, and you can feel yourself slipping into a bit of a panic, but you force yourself to calm down as you jiggle the mouse to wake the computer up as the note instructs.

You press play and watch with tears threatening in your eyes.

Tavros had taken every picture you took the first day you met and every day after and put them in a slideshow. You didn't really take the time to look at them all; never really realized just how photogenic your perfect match is. You smile through the tears when you see his nervous tilt of a smile turns into a full-on grin as the photos progress. All the places you went, all the people and things you showed each other, even a few pictures he must have taken on his own, judging by the amount of leather and the amount of blush it puts on your face…it's all here. It's the entire month displayed before you in a matter of minutes.

It leaves you breathless. Your tears have stopped, though, and you can stand again. Your stomach is trembling, but you push through it and clear your throat.

The sun is only about an hour in the sky as you climb the hill behind your home. You can see him sitting there, facing the direction of the great orb. It shines on him, giving him a healthy-looking shine. You stop, flexing your fingers and trying to slow your heartbeat, trying not to hyperventilate. It takes a few moments, but you manage a smile. "H-hey, Tav," you choke. "How was the sunrise? Bet it was fuckin miracles, huh. Aw shit, listen to me, im shakin and stammerin like you. Oh, but, don't worry, my brother, it ain't no big thing really."

For a moment you pause and stare up at the sky, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants. You swallow the huge lump in your throat, wishing you could just scream. "Alright, motherfucker, I guess…I guess I ought to be up and getting you outta here huh. Gotta go meet your momma, right? Don't be worryin, Tav. I've got you. You know I won't let you go, so…well, let's get going!"

You sniff and lift his limp and lifeless body into your arms, carrying him bridal-style back down towards the road. You figure you can get that infernal contraption later. Right now, Tavros needs you, and his mother needs you.

His mother cries when you tell her. You look at the pictures every night. The note, well…the note you had made into a piece of art and hung over your bed, and you can hear his voice every time you read it.

_"Dear Gamzee,_

_If you're reading this it means that you've woken up and I'm not there. Don't worry, I should be back soon, I just wanted to catch the sunrise one last time._

_Well…I guess you're wondering why it'll be the last time. Gamzee, let me tell you that you intrigue me. I never really figured you out, but that's the beauty of you. You always found the beauty in everything, and I loved how your eyes would shine when you talked about one of your miracles. I loved you a lot, Gamzee, and I still do, and that's why I need to tell you that I'm dying._

_It isn't a big deal, really. I'm not afraid. I knew this would be my last month. I haven't been scared of the cancer from the beginning. When I get back I'll tell you the whole story. But you know these things, they're unpredictable, and I can feel it coming sooner than expected. We may only have a few hours left, a day at most, and you deserve to know how much you mean to me, and how much I cherish you._

_If you jiggle the mouse you'll see that there's a program set up. Press play. These are the moments that you will always have with me. These are the moments in my heart. Until my last breath you'll be on my mind. I love you, Gamzee Makara, more than I've ever loved anyone._

_Listen for me in the wind. Tavros."_


End file.
